The Night Before Christmas
by SunshineInSpring
Summary: In which it is Christmas Eve, and the Professor's house is nothing like the Narnia Lucy, Peter, Susan and Edmund have just left, and with the added time spent there, their days with their mother feel like an age away. But nothing is lost enough that it cannot be found, as long there is courage, faith, Aslan and just a little bit of Christmas magic.


**A/N:: Well, I'm BACK with my obligatory(?) Christmas oneshot for you all! I see this set after TLTWATW and before PC. I didn't really know where this was headed when I began to write this, but I hope you like this as much as I did- it kind of took on a life of its own! I hope you enjoy this, and don't forget to leave a review to let me know what you thought!**

 **The Night Before Christmas**

The moon hung suspended in the sky, as the dark night, a silent blanket wrapped itself around the house, and as far as the eye could see. Stars, a myriad of shining diamonds, were scattered over their obsidian backdrop, casting a faint light over the glistening snow which covered the ground. The night had just settled in when, in a bedroom on the third floor of the large house, a light appeared at the window, and a silhouette of a girl stared out at the world.

"Lu?" came the voice of a girl from the bed further into the room. The girl at the window, Lucy, whipped around, startled from her dreamy gaze out at the cold night. The older girl sat up, rubbing at her eyes, and peered at the shadowed face of the clock on the table between the two beds. "Lu, what are you doing? It's eleven o'clock, why aren't you asleep! I know it's Christmas Eve, Lu, but do go back to bed!" Swinging her legs around, and casting about for a dressing gown, the elder girl slowly stood from the bed and headed towards her sister at the window.

Lucy replied softly, "I was, Su, but I thought I heard something coming from outside." Having made that quiet remark, Lucy then returned her gaze to the window, searching for the mysterious source of the noise that had awoken her.

"What sort of noise, Lu?" asked Susan, who was now more awake, and peering at the grounds of the large house also, in search of the reason why Lucy had awoken. "I can't see anything, are you sure?"

Lucy nodded, turning slightly flush as Susan began to frown at the late hour, "It was like… well it was a roar," she murmured, eyes fixed resolutely at the trees on the other side of the lawn which their window looked out upon. "A roar, a roar like that of a lion, Su. Like Aslan." Momentarily abandoning her embarrassment, Lucy's eyes flickered up to her sister's face, wide with hope that was quickly quelled by her Susan's response of a sigh.

"Lu, I'm sorry. I miss Narnia too, but I think it's better if we all accept that we live here, now. I really do. It can't have been Aslan, Lu, you know that. How could it have been?" Lucy's eyes filled with glistening tears, but she refused to let any fall. "Look, Lu, I'm sure it was just your imagination- wishful thinking. I know it's Christmas, and I've been proven wrong about Christmas before;" here Lucy let out a reluctant giggle at the memory of Susan's astonishment at coming face to face with Father Christmas, "-but it doesn't mean that miracles will happen, no matter how much we want them to. I'm sorry, but there's really nothing out there." Lucy nodded despondently, and, with one last glance toward the window, turned to head back to bed, when a knock sounded at their bedroom door, and the hushed voice of their eldest brother, Peter, called out their names.

"Lucy? Susan? Are you awake? We heard voices, and Edmund's sure he heard-" there was some quiet conference that the girls could not hear through the door, but before Susan could take so much as a step to allow the boys entry, Peter continued in a lower voice still, "- _Aslan."_

Lucy and Susan exchanged glances, Lucy's filled with the hope that had slid from her face just a minute before, and Susan's held an unreadable expression; a curious mixture of hope, and wariness, coupled with a slight tinge of resignation, which, as soon as seen, was wiped away.

Susan pulled open the door to reveal their brothers, both clad in dressing gowns. Edmund's eyes too held the same hope that adorned Lucy's, whereas Peter (having trekked to the nearest town earlier in the day), simply looked tired, and so sat rather heavily upon Susan's bed. Susan, in whose eyes hope had begun to shine more strongly, simply smiled slightly and replied; "So is Lucy."

Edmund and Peter looked up sharply, matching grins beginning to show on both of their faces, whilst Lucy danced in her place slightly, overjoyed at being believed. However, before any further discussion on the subject could commence, a roar sounded again. The roar was the kind of noise whereby it is felt, rather than heard. The kind which thrums throughout the entire being, which sings through the heart, and makes the body feel alive. This was the noise that had awakened both Lucy and Edmund, and it was this noise that all four of the siblings now heard. Lucy's smile nearly threatened to overtake her entire face, but it was replaced with wonderment not a moment later.

She gestured to the window, "Look!", as sounds of awe came from each of her siblings. For, dancing merrily across the sky, darting over the horizon, closer and closer, came a light –"A shooting star!"- Edmund breathed. The star came nearer still, falling, falling, toward the ground, until it disappeared from view between the closely grouped mass of trees at the edge of the lawn. When it did, a bright flash lit the darkened night, illuminating the matching expressions of wonder on the faces of each of the children, before it began to ebb slightly. It did not vanish completely, however, rather it emitted a glow from the copse opposite the window that the children were gazing out of.

"What do we do?" Asked Susan, gaze still fixed firmly on the glow, as if afraid it would extinguish itself imminently. Her siblings looked at her, identical smiles growing on their faces, as each began to think the same thought, and began scrambling madly for shoes and overcoats. Edmund let out an "Aha!" as he came across a torch in one pocket, which he consequentially gave to Susan for safekeeping. Susan groaned good-naturedly, as she too began to pull on some boots. "Really?" she questioned, as she reached for a dressing gown. Casting one look around the room to check that she had everything that she needed, she murmured "Here we go again" to the now-empty room, before closing the bedroom door and following her siblings in tiptoeing quickly down the two flights of stairs to the back door that would lead them to the gardens. As they went, not talking for fear of awakening the Professor or Mrs Macready, their minds loud with hope, and apprehension for what they might find.

Susan flashed the torch low to the ground as they hurried over the lawn. The cold, which had previously seemed to ebb throughout even the house, for all of its warming fires, no longer bothered them, and the snow underfoot gave not even a crunch as they hastened across it. It was as though they had become the spectre that was the night, as they fled toward the trees, Peter in the lead, one hand clasped around Lucy's, who struggled slightly to keep pace. Susan ran adjacent to them, torch casting long beams of light against the ground, and behind her, glancing back occasionally to ensure that they had not awoken the two elder occupants of the house, came Edmund. After what seemed like both forever and equally no time at all had passed, they came to the trees within which the light had fallen.

Here they slowed, for the now trees seemed dense and dark in the night, with low branches casting long shadows over the ground, and leafless, snow-laden boughs looming overhead. Peter sighed, as Susan hopelessly cast the torch's rather meagre beam around, but his despair did not last long, for Lucy soon called out; "Hey, Su! What's this, over here?"

Lucy was pointing with her free hand to the two largest trees at the edge of the small thicket, which were appearing to move. Edmund edged closer, and waved at Susan to give him the torch. She passed it over, then edged back, grabbing Lucy's other hand. Lucy looked rather disgruntled at being grabbed thus, however soon let it pass as Edmund gestured for them to come closer. For, as Edmund had seen, not just the trees closest to them were beginning to move, but all of the trees behind these two were also. They were arching, snow falling off their branches to add to the snow already on the ground, creating a soft, perfect, white carpet for the siblings to walk upon. The boughs intertwined delicately at the crown of the arch, to create a covered walkway, through which, purely on instinct, the children walked.

Again, time seemed to stand still, for the walk felt, to each of the once-monarchs at least, to take both an age, and yet within moments they had arrived in a clearing. This caused gasps from each of the kings and queens, for it was, unlike the wintery world from which they had entered the glade, completely devoid of snow. No, this was not, surely, the same cold night they had hurried out into. The sun glanced through the leaves- _leaves! -_ casting a dappled light to fall on the blanket of springy green grass. Lucy danced with glee, and Susan stooped to run her fingers through the blades in wonderment. Peter and Edmund simply stared about, the torch dropping from Edmund's fingers, and falling to the floor forgotten, amazed at the clearing in which they found themselves, before whoops of delight tore from each of their throats with sheer happiness- something that, in recent months, had felt more and more of a distant dream.

A deep chuckle stopped each from their activities, and brought their attention to a new arrival in the hollow. Lucy gave a shout, "Aslan", but before rushing to greet him, remembered herself, and joined her siblings in bowing to the great Lion. Proper greetings abided by, Lucy launched herself at Aslan, who caught her hug in his great paws, and purred as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He permitted this for a short while, before gently nudging her back to her siblings with his head.

"Now, children;" Aslan began, sitting before them, as they knelt on the grass. "What ails you so? For your despair and despondency has been felt even in Narnia. What makes you so rich in grief?"

The children looked down, each shamefaced for having been as clear in their sorrow as to pull Aslan from his world to theirs. Peter, as High King, was the designated answerer, and so forced himself to look up at the Great Cat. "We, all of us," he gestured around him at his siblings, "We miss Narnia, sir."

"We do, Aslan, we just want to come back! What did we do wrong? Why were we sent away?" added Lucy, tears building in her eyes once more, fetching another chuckle from the lion before them. He graced Lucy with a paternal smile, before addressing them once more.

"You are here, not for punishment child, but simply because Narnia is not yet in need of you once more." Lucy's eyes filled with hope as she comprehended what Aslan was saying, however her siblings still looked concerned. Aslan smiled as he saw this, and as he sought to help them understand why they had returned to this world, and were no longer their adult selves. "You still have need of Narnia; and you shall return, my children. But you have much to learn from this world, and must be patient. You shall return to Narnia when its need is again great, but this time is not yet upon you. Have courage, children, for once a king or queen of Narnia, always a king or queen of Narnia."

All of the children now reflected the hope in Lucy's eyes, as smiles graced their faces. Susan voiced what was racing through their heads, the joy blossoming in their hearts. "So we'll go back?" she spoke apprehensively, praying in her mind for the affirmative. Aslan nodded his head, his great mane catching in the light of that impossible sun.

"And yet, my children, you are not truly happy. Come now, speak the full truth, High King Peter," he commanded. Peter looked up upon hearing his title spoken so, and was compelled to answer honestly.

"It is our mother, sir. We miss her, too. It has been so long since we saw her, or even heard from her, in this world, and it feels even longer for our years in Narnia. There is a war here, Aslan, and she is right in the centre of the attacks- in the city. What if-?" Here, his voice failed him as his throat constricted and his eyes burned with the tears that were already silently sliding down the faces of each of the other monarchs seated in the long grass beside him.

Aslan smiled gently once more, and pushed himself to his paws. Slowly, he padded closer to the siblings, yet when he spoke, it was as though they were hearing him, not through their ears, but as though the words he spoke were written into their souls, and sung across their hearts, a distant memory.

"Have faith, children. Have courage. Nothing is lost so far as it cannot be found, so long as you have hope." He breathed on them, then, and as he did, a golden fog began to rise from the fronds of the long grass within which they were seated. Each of the siblings found their eyes beginning to close against their will, and, in the half-light (how long had they been sat there, so engrossed in conversation that they had not noticed the sun begin to set?) they slumped down against each other. Aslan chuckled once more, and shook his head at the four before him. "Sleep now, my children. You will know Narnia again, but until then, be at peace. And-" He looked up at the shadow of a Christmas tree in one of the large windows on the ground floor of the house, "Merry Christmas." He spoke quietly before turning his great head away from the children. The gathering dusk crept upon them as they slumbered, and Aslan padded away into the trees, which were shadowed and wintery once more.

A knock sounded, hard against the old oak door, piercing the dark night, the silent blanket which had wrapped itself around the house. The noise awoke the lightest sleepers in the house, the housekeeper, who groaned and began to cast about for a dressing gown, and a key, and, in one of the third floor bedrooms, a girl, Lucy, who sat up, shaking her head at the strange dream she had just had.

Lucy glanced over at the clock- eleven o'clock! Who could be knocking at the front door at eleven o'clock? - before the knock sounded again, awakening the girl in the next bed also. She too sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and exclaimed; "Lu- I just had the strangest dream! You'll never guess! It was-"

Lucy broke in, a grin forming on her face. "-Aslan! I had it too Su!" Susan's face cleared, like clouds vanishing on a sunny day, leaving just clear blue sky. "You did? How? I thought it was just a dream, the best dream, certainly, but- oh! Look!" Susan pointed to the floor by their beds, where, in a pile, were their shoes, dripping water onto the carpet. Across the chair, strewn and still with snowy crystals clinging to them, were their coats. "It wasn't a dream at all, Lucy!" Lucy nodded, joy rendering her speechless.

They were broken from their thoughts by the knock that sounded again, a third time. It was impatient now, louder, awakening the remaining occupants of the house causing the groan came from the next bedroom over. Not a minute later, Peter and Edmund stumbled into the room, each yawning at the late hour. "Who is that at the door?" asked Peter, eyes half closed in protest at being awake. He saw the coats, dusted with snow, and, as Edmund nearly fell over the pile of shoes, his eyes widened with shock at the puddle caused by melted snow crystals beneath them on the carpet. "It wasn't just a dream then?" Peter asked, sitting down heavily on Susan's bed, echoing his previous actions.

Edmund too gasped, and uttered in shock "I don't think so, but how can we be certain?" he mused slowly. Suddenly his mind awoke fully. With a call of; "I know how we can be sure!" he leapt up, and vanished out of the door, only to reappear only moments later, holding a limp overcoat. Edmund fished in each of the pockets as he hurried back in. "No torch, see!" He showed them the empty pockets. "It was in here last night, I know it!" Each of the children exchanged excited grins, whereas Edmund's face fell slightly. "It was a new torch, too!"

Peter laughed aloud, "Come now Ed, don't you see what this means! It was all real!"

None of the children could get any further, however, before someone knocked and pushed open slightly the door to Lucy and Susan's bedroom, and the Professor's head poked in. "Now, I won't ask what you're all doing awake, for I think you'd better come downstairs. You have a visitor!" His head retreated as, for the second time that night, the children headed downstairs to the ground floor, though this time they did not need to tiptoe.

They followed the Professor past the drawing room, with its large, real and highly decorated Christmas tree (the reason for Peter's visit to the village earlier that day), and into the **entrance** hall, where, standing with a large grin on her face was their visitor.

Four identical shouts came up from each of the children, as they raced toward the visitor- " _MUM!"_ The woman laughed merrily as she hugged all of her children and assured them that, yes she was very real and indeed here. As the children tugged her toward the drawing room, to the large tree with its few presents underneath, (for no-one in the house could imagine much sleep being had this Christmas Eve now), Mrs Pevensie explained the sudden and temporary closure of the factory in which she worked, which had allowed her to take the solitary train up to the Professors house for two days, the fare for which, luckily, she had just the right money. The Professor smiled, glad for the happy reunion, and cast a glance at the copse at the end of his lawn, which was returned by a rush of warmth throughout the house.

The next morning, the house still blanketed in snow, the four Pevensie siblings and their mother would be awoken on the couch by a rousing "Merry Christmas!" from the Professor. Mrs Macready would serve them a delicious breakfast, and then they would all set about opening their presents. Tucked right underneath the tree, and so the last to be opened, was a parcel, unmarked except for the words "Edmund, a replacement for times yet to come. Merry Christmas." Edmund tore into the paper, murmurings of confusion filling the air behind him, as all present denied the giving of the gift (though if the Professor did have a certain knowing twinkle in his eye, it went unremarked upon), and each expressed their equal amounts of confusion and delight as, from the wrappings rolled a new, silver shiny torch.

Later that night, before the children settled into their beds, they gathered in Lucy and Susan's bedroom to discuss the events of the last day, Edmund flashing his new torch around for them to see how it worked. In days to come, none would be able to recall exactly the words used in that discussion, though each knew for certain that they had concluded that their mother's 'luck' could be traced back to their conversation with Aslan, as could Edmund's new torch, which provided a large degree of hilarity (though Susan was quick to point out that the real point of that gift was to remind them that there were indeed further adventures to come). Before they had retired to bed, each had looked the others in the eye, and, glancing out of the window through which they had seen the falling star, remarked in unison "Thank you Aslan", and then, as the boys headed back to their room, and the girls to their beds;

Merry Christmas.

 **A/N:: And there you go! I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did (and my little addition of how Edmund got that new torch!). Let me know what you thought in a review, and I hope you all have a very merry Christmas (if you celebrate it), and a great 2018!**


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